underwater
by llgwrites
Summary: Caroline is something more. Stuck in the lake, she finally goes out when she sees him. Like a tingling sensation, urging her to go out of the water. She rips her flakes out - out of anger, desperation, deep feelings she never felt before. She can walk, dance, run, but she is not quite human, yet.


**Bonjour! I am back with a new story (I am not giving up the others but this one was really stuck in my head). It's my first fantasy fanfiction, so it'll be really different from my others fic, let me know what you think about the style, especially because unlike the others, here, I write in French first (I have a lot more vocabulary) and translate it after, and I want to know if it's a good technique. So tell me if there is any mistakes, especially since I don't have any betas!**

 **I really hope you'll like it because damn, really, the plot was wandering my mind it was almost painful!**

 **I'll shut up now!**

 **Good reading and I LOVE ALL OF YOU, YOU WHO TAKE TIME TO EVEN READ THOSE LINES!**

 **PS: you can find me on my tumblr: llg-f !**

 **edit: I had to delete and repost it because I didn't receive the alerts, sorry for those who followed or favorited the story!**

* * *

Caroline often looked up, not in an attempt to see the sky, dark or light, no, but just to see the others. Although, the screen between water and air blurred her sight, she saw silhouettes, shadows, and she heard sounds of laughter sometimes, songs, and discussions.

She let her head peak out of the water from time to time, watching, behind a rock – observing, like a voyeur, or a student. These people, who looked like her, but had two legs.

And sometimes when he was alone – a man near the water – she went out, leaning on the rock pointing in the middle of the lake, chin on her hands and smiling. When he did not notice her, she laughed, or hummed, in order to attract his sight on her. She spoke to them, grinning, until he put the first foot in the water.

But this time, she remained hidden, preferring to study his silhouette.

This was rarer recently to see people wandering here, the place was little known - secret, almost desolate - she had not seen anyone for days. But that night, he was there.

A square jaw, an angular face, serious, fair hair and eyebrows furrowed and thick. It seemed to be an angel of incredible strength. He hurled rocks to make ricochet, creating the perfect circles on the dark water before the stone sunk, not driven by his strength anymore.

It was as if he was familiar, recognized, but it was impossible for her to remember.

But he was surely not an angel. Caroline knew what he was – a man. A man standing on two legs, who can walk, run, or dance.

But his stature, he had a royal build, he was standing straight, his head raised, standing tall, almost haughty, and his clothes seemed to be of a rich fabric.

He was beautiful. A universal beauty, everyone must fall under her charm. When his face loomed, her skin covered with goose bumps, a little voice in her head the urging her to approach him.

She had seen hundreds of men through this lake, lounging, laughing, singing, she had even been an intruder during lovemaking.

Most often she looked away, not wanting to be part of their life in any way – as a decoration. She did not look at them, or even tried to care most of the time – but not him. He was different. She knew him. And his beauty was like a magnet to her eyes, she couldn't break her gaze away – though she did not want it.

She almost wanted him to join her here in the water – a familiar feeling, this desire, this need almost, primal, to see him surrounded by the lake, the black water. But she knew where it led, and his beauty couldn't (shouldn't) tarnish, fade – die.

She knew this tale, she had done it before. She sang, laughed, to attract, light notes growing up his head, his concentration on her and her only. She captivated him, to touch, caress – but unlike her, he couldn't breathe underwater.

 _Oh_ , how she wanted to join him, go out of her lair, her hiding place, her prison. But how to do it? How could he not be horrified at the sight? An abominable being, so different from him.

She could not provide the same fate for such a beautiful man, she could not bear to see his mouth open, swallowing water burst, flooding his lungs, his eyes staring at her, his skin paling as he moves constantly in a last hope of being saved. No, she could not give him this tragic end - even though she was dying to do so.

It was what she was – a freak. Thirsty for death and revenge, seeking to attract handsome young men in the water, to feel less alone. However, she lived an eternal solitude because his company lasted only a few minutes before he drowned into the depths of the lake. She wanted to draw him to her – just as he drew her to him.

 _Were they tears?_

She was locked up here in this lake, in the water she had examined all the nooks and crannies, this lake, surrounded by flowers, sometimes coming to die, reminding her of the time she stayed here. Trees, greeneries, she lived in a halo of peace, a hidden place in the forest, nonetheless it felt like a prison.

Her only distraction were passersby, but they were also a painful reminder of what she was, and what she wanted to do to them.

She was tired of being alone, she wanted to see what was up there, above the transparent film. This water screen where she saw men, this insurmountable surface she wanted to break with her hands.

It was a strange feeling that swallowed her from within. A desire to shake her arms aimlessly, destroy, a warmth inside, irritating, obnoxious, but so vehement, persuasive, bewitching.

She wanted to feel the air in her lungs, she wanted to feel the grass under her feet, she wanted to see them up close, she wanted to touch them, she wanted to be one of them. It was as if for the first time, she realized all she hadn't, but still wanted.

She wanted this handsome young man – at what cost?

She saw him, huffing, lowering his shoulders and looking at the water, probably his own reflection, but she liked to think he saw her.

He stretched his arm and sent a final pebble to bounce against the water. A last kick of his heel and he turned around.

Caroline reached out as if to call him, forgetting that the water around her smothered her complaints. With a ripple through her body, her tail undulating, she moved closer to the lakeshore and stuck her head out, sweeping the light foam with her arm to be able to observe him one last time, his back, sinking in the green of the forest.

He escaped, and she was stuck here. She grabbed a tuft of grass, using it as leverage to pull her tail out of the water. She could go away, run away, and join him – but she needed two legs for that, in order to run, and reunite with him.

It was her fucking scales that prevented her from moving, prevented her from being human. Her green flakes.

She was not like them, she was a monster – truly, she didn't know what she was, but she was different. Her fist clenched on her waist, she realized that she had torn a handful of scales, she felt some pain, but seemed serenely desired. She hated her horrible scales!

Her scales flew away as she began to scratch them with her bare fingernails, her horrible scales. She dug her nails at the top of her tail and snatched a handful of laminas, just like she had been able to tear the grass when she was angry or bored.

She felt a multitude of feelings, anger, fury, surging within, just because she hated what she was. She tore her fish skin with her simple strength, teeth clenched, as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her ugly flakes disappeared one by one. She was like a scaled fish on the lakeshore, battling for the last breath.

With cries of pain she did not even realize she let out, she continued to pull the handles of her blue-green lamellas that seemed to shine with the moon. _Oh_ she hated them, those things covering her body. She wanted to be like the others.

After a few minutes, which seemed like hours, she stopped. Realizing that under her scales, only remained a thick, gooey layer protecting what she deeply desired – legs. Long legs, pale, smooth, coated with a sticky material.

She bent to catch at the end of her legs the bluish fins before throwing them at her side – the grass started dying around the now desiccated fin, like a dried leaf in autumn.

She stopped crying, eyes wide and mouth open. She looked at them, as if her dearest wish had been realized – and it was.

She was like them.

She tried to get rid of the slime, creating webs between her fingers, she wanted to touch them, and she wanted to get up. Make it all more real.

She bent in order to touch the tip of her legs, feet, toes wriggling at will. She brushed the big toe with her index finger and laughed, slapping her hand over her mouth to stifle the expression of joy she felt and conveyed.

She had legs, she had feet, and she continued to wriggle the toes while laughing, her smile etched ear to ear. She spread them, wiggled them, she could play for hours with her new toes - and maybe she did.

Then she noticed a bump in the middle of her leg, allowing her to fold them.

And higher still, where her two legs got separated, curly hairs, V-shaped, seemingly covering her crotch. She had seen naked men and women near the lake, and the women seemed to have the same thing – men also had hairs, but something quite different in the middle.

She could spread her legs, which was impossible before. She could touch her toes, and brush the whole column of her leg.

She was human.

She looked around as to want to share her bliss, but no one was there, only the lake and the moon reflecting on it. She was disappointed, but not surprised.

A light wind arose, leaves and trees whistled, making her shiver.

She had only one thing to do, stand, walk and join her prince. And really, it sounded so easy, so simple to do just so. She put a hand on the ground, then a second, and pushed with all her strength to lift her body.

After a first attempt in vain, as she stumbled, unable to put her feet on the ground, she understood that she must bend her legs – almost like she was swimming in fact, waving to mimic the waves and move under water – allowing her foot to land on the ground and finally stand up.

The first attempt to stand was brief, her legs shook before tumbling, bringing Caroline on the floor. She groaned before trying to get up once again, both hands on the floor, stretching her legs – Caroline always persevered again and again.

The second time was longer, she stood motionless, but when she lifted her foot to move, it twisted and she fell over.

She continued, again and again, and each time, she moved forward a little more – to where, she did not know, but beyond this cursed lake.

After many attempts, she managed to stand up and move forward - _right, left, right, left_ \- and she plunged in the green of the forest, far from the clearing welcoming her terrible pond.

It was only after a few minutes she realized she did not know where to go or even where she was. The tree she seemed to recognize reappeared three times during her course, the singular bush not so unique anymore, as the forest seemed to swallow her all and darkening as she went. The moon high in the sky the only thing unchanging here.

She heard noises, trying not to concentrate on it – from fear. Laughter, singing. And she saw floating lights near the trees, bushes and flowers, almost like they were yellow eyes looking directly at her. She heard stories about the forest, but still tried to forget them. Ghosts, spirits, demons, tales about them haunting the place.

Her lake was warmer, she realized when she began to tremble, whilst a gust of wind hit her damp skin, her hair flying on her shoulders.

She wrapped her breast with her arms, rubbing her shoulders hoping to warm up. What is she doing here? And where was this here?

She followed an earthy path, her feet began to hurt, after falling several times and stepping on sharp stones, and dry, spiky grass.

She looked up to watch the moon – not full tonight, crescent – hoping that she could guide her through the woods. But she was hidden by a screen of gray smoke.

She had seen smoke before, it meant there was a fire. She remembered the young men around a yellowish source of heat, like red vertical waves, eating and drinking until exhaustion – it was actually the day she witnessed moments which seemed too private for her to see.

Smoke! No smoke without fire, there had to be something here. She smiled, thinking she had finally find someone or something, and started to run – the best she could – realizing that her feet hardly touched the ground.

Leaves, branches, whipping her body, but she didn't seem to care, as she was caught in her euphoria at having found something, and by herself.

Humph, Caroline flattened on the ground, her foot caught in a root coming out of the ground like a snake. She got up and inspected her legs – cuts, everywhere, always covered with a viscous film. On her knee, a larger incision, but empty, a hole, which also closed quickly.

Caroline huffed and started walking, still following smoke, even though she had to push with her arms the leaves, bushes, and branches to clear the way.

She last saw where the smoke was coming. A cottage stood in the middle of the forest, and even if it was the only trace of human life in the forest, the house didn't contrast, it was small, only two windows framing a tiny red door.

Though, it seemed to melt into the forest, brown branches covering the walls, flowers growing everywhere if there wasn't light and smoke coming out of it, Caroline could have sworn it was abandoned. Behind the windows, there was someone, someone to show her the way, or offer a shelter.

A cry – or laugh, she couldn't distinguish – rang behind her, and she startled at the shivering sound. It was the last push she needed to find herself in front of the door, fist raised. With her trembling hand, she knocked three times on the painted wood.

She heard muffled sounds from the other side of the door, and she could not help but look out the window to notice movements, but the door opened before she could.

The door opened a few centimeters, blocked by countless channels. Through the small gap, she saw an old woman, small, barely reaching her chest, umber skin, with big brown eyes looking her up and down.

"Oh, my god, my poor friend!" the woman exclaimed with a croaky voice at the sight of Caroline, trembling, and completely naked at her doorstep.

Caroline had no time to say a word when the door closed, the woman detaching the chains. The door opened wide a second later and she could see the woman fully. A small woman, like curled up on herself, she wore loose clothes and her hair was hidden under a patterned scarf. She wore many jewels that rattled when she grabbed Caroline's arm and pushed her inside, immediately wrapping her with a blanket.

Her body warmed immediately in contact with the woolen layer, even more when the old woman approached her to the fireplace, fire crackling under a black cauldron, the only sound filling the room.

"Sit down there," she rubbed her shoulders, "I'll make tea."

She sat on the floor, legs straight, toes near the fire, making them squirm – always amazed how they moved, a more humane alternative that its fins. It was the first time she felt the heat enveloping her that way, the air heavier, warmer. She never came this close from a fire, the idea of touching it crossing her mind.

She finally took the time to look around, and she realized that the room seemed huge unlike the exterior of the house. The room was lit by hundreds of candles, giving a yellowed appearance inside. Thousands of objects, bric-a-brac piled in every corner, stacks of books, covered with wax from the candles lit on the column. Threads hanging from the ceiling, various amulets swung – chicken bones, herbs, flowers. And it reigned in the room a floral odor, earthy smell, reminding her where she came from.

"I am preparing a nettle soup." The old woman said, holding a steaming cup for Caroline, a small smile on her feature. "My name is Sheila."

Caroline replied to the non-emphasized question. "My name is Caroline."

Sheila nodded with a smile and turned away. Caroline watched her as she opened a large closet and pulled out a large white cloth. "Why are you naked in the forest, honey?" The old woman asked, as if she knew Caroline stared at her.

Telling the truth was out of the question, most men joining her in the water opened their eyes wide, trembling, sometimes even cried when he saw her tail. "I do not know." And in a way, it was the truth. What could she possibly tell her? That she was a monster who felt for a second a pull, a significant sentiment that had pushed her out of the water, an attraction urging her to go out. And even if she said it, how could she believe her, as Caroline couldn't believe herself?

Sheila hummed, tight lips. "You fled from the Germans?"

"What?" Caroline frowned.

The old woman turned to see the blonde's confused face, still sitting on the floor. She grabbed a white dress and a thick sweater and approached her. She placed the clothes beside her. "You can wear this."

Caroline wondered what was wrong with her body if she had to hide it. She's seen men and women near the lake, completely naked and they did not seem to be disturbed by it – sometimes they were studying, touching their nakedness didn't appear as a problem. But she preferred to shrug, sweeping the questions away, not wanting to query herself any longer.

"Give me your hand." Sheila asked, ordered, holding out her hand while Caroline dressed, putting the borrowed wool sweater.

Caroline complied. At the first touch Sheila frowned, but suddenly hummed as her eyes opened wider. "I can't see." She murmured. Her gaze on Caroline, she squeezed her hand gently and let it go with a smile.

"Lexi!" Sheila suddenly rose, screaming in the opposite direction. "Come serve our guest!"

She heard whispered laments as a person of small stature approached the fire with a bowl in her hands. Caroline looked up and down, she could not be higher than her legs, dragging her long blond hair on the floor.

"And do not forget to leave one bowl behind the oven."

Lexi once again muttered as she turned, handing the steaming bowl with a pungent odor. Caroline took the bowl, her nose scrunching but tasted it immediately anyway. The taste was not (fortunately) like the smell.

"Hey!" Lexi hit the back of Caroline's head. "And thank you is for dogs?"

"Thank you?" Caroline asked.

"You can be a guest, but you must be polite."

"Yes?" Again Caroline seemed to ask, not understanding what compelled her to say this, but it was surely a human tradition.

Caroline put the bowl on the ground as soon as the tiny woman walked away muttering some angry words and holding another bowl to deposit near the oven, just like Sheila said. She ran a hand through her hair, still wet between fingers.

The old woman reappeared beside her with a bowl and a candle in hand. She put the candle near Caroline and filled her bowl in the cauldron, then sat beside her, crossing her legs and recovering them with her long skirt.

"Who are you, Caroline?"

That's when everything dawned on her, _who was she_? It was the most difficult question she could answer. She never asked herself this question when she was alone in the water, it didn't seem to be important in any way, because there was no one to actually care. The only thing she knew was that she was not human, for many obvious reason, and her name was Caroline. Was there anything else to know? She tried to find words, things about herself, but came out empty.

"I am looking for someone, actually." She said, instead of saying who she was, she told her the only thing she knew for sure, what she was doing.

"Many people have left already."

Caroline frowned at the mystery of the old woman, she opened her mouth, then closed it again, searching for words.

"So you do not flee the Germans?" Sheila asked, taking her hand once again, drawing imaginary circle with her thumb on the back of it.

"The Germans?"

Sheila put the bowl on the floor and lit the candle with a jerk of her hand. "They invaded us a year ago, we are at war, my dear."

How was it that she knew nothing of all this? "War?" She repeated, the word foreign in her ears. There was too many things she didn't understand, too many questions.

The woman in front of her had an understandable smile, almost empathetic toward the young woman. When she touched her hand, she realized she was different, inhuman, and thus immune to what might happen in that world – a world now desolate, alone and cold. She could imagine what the girl was living, she was like a new born in this life, a human life, and it was within Sheila's being to help her.

"I'll explain everything tomorrow, Lexi is preparing a bed, and I'll give you some clothes. You need rest, Caroline."


End file.
